


Let you put your hands on me

by rsadelle



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, Kink Exploration, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Roleplay, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 06:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4049680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rsadelle/pseuds/rsadelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean's never quite gotten excited about sex the way other people seem to. That lasts from the time he first starts discovering sex until he's twenty and in his sophomore season in the NHL.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let you put your hands on me

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Notes:** This story contains crossdressing, spanking, teacher-student role play, and characters using the term "slutty" to refer to sexually active young women.
> 
> Brandon Bollig really did tell the Flames cameras about [dressing up as a cheerleader for Halloween](http://video.flames.nhl.com/videocenter/console?id=658757&catid=11). Title from Katy Perry's "Teenage Dream." Thanks to Lake for consulting and to everyone on Twitter who answered various questions.

Sean's never quite gotten excited about sex the way other people seem to. He jerks off, sometimes, and it feels good, but it's not something he likes to drag out and take his time with. He usually does it in the shower, quick and easily cleaned up. He's fucked a couple of girls, too, and it was good, but not good enough for him to be obsessed with it the way the other guys he knows always seem to be.

That lasts from the time he first starts discovering sex until he's twenty and in his sophomore season in the NHL.

*

"I'm not the one who dressed up as a cheerleader," Devin says.

"You'd be pretty as a cheerleader," Jonny says, with a guilelessness so well perfected that Sean can't tell if he's faking it.

"So who did dress up as a cheerleader?" Matt asks.

"Bolls," Devin says. "He told Kristin about it for the Halloween video."

There's a chorus of catcalls. Sean doesn't join in, but he does listen to Gratts ask, "A cheerleader?"

"Yeah," Bolls says, shrugging.

"Skirt and pom-poms and everything?" Gratts presses.

"No pom-poms," Bolls says. "Too hard to carry around while partying, and last time it was the Dallas Cowboys uniform, but I've done the skirt kind too."

"And a beard and a blond wig," Devin says.

Bolls shrugs again, unconcerned. His cheeks aren't even going red, like it's not a big deal.

It's not, really - the guys chirp him about it a little more but then they move on to chirping someone else - but the next time Sean's perfunctorily jerking off in the shower, the image of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform, the skirt short over his thighs, the sleeveless shirt showing off his arms, his beard dusting over the bottom of his cheeks, flashes through his mind and he comes so hard he has to fling an arm out and steady himself against the wall so he doesn't fall down and concuss himself in a really embarrassing way.

*

It's not a one-time thing. After the third time, Sean starts thinking about it on purpose, calling up the mental image of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform to begin with. He jerks himself off slowly that time, thinking about Bolls, about his thighs peeking out from under the skirt, about the way the skirt would hide his cock, about the bulge of his biceps against the sleeveless top that stretches over his chest.

The thought of it makes Sean dizzy with want, and he drags it out, strokes himself slower so he doesn't come yet, so he can enjoy it a little more.

Maybe he's starting to understand why all the guys he knows have been so into this.

*

Sean has lotion in his room, even if he doesn't usually use it for jerking off, but one afternoon when Lance is out, he decides to see how he likes it in this new world where jerking off really does it for him. He slicks up his hand, and then slicks up his cock, and touches himself really slowly, other hand ranging across his chest, his thighs, figuring out what he likes.

He already knows he likes the thought of Bolls in a cheerleading uniform, so he closes his eyes and lets himself think about that some more. The picture comes easily to his mind now, since he's thought about it so much.

He's doing this on purpose, trying to make it feel really good, so he lets the fantasy form a little more. Not just looking at Bolls, but what it would be like to touch him. His legs would be rough with hair, if Sean put his hands on Bolls' knees and moved them up. Not smooth like the girls he's touched. Rough under his palms, the fabric of the skirt on the back of his hands as Sean moves his hands up.

Sean gasps and jerks his hand too fast, has to tell himself to slow it down a little before he keeps thinking about it.

In his fantasy, Bolls is hard, and giving Sean a half-challenging smile while Sean's hands move up the inside of his thighs, up to the space between them, backs of his fingers just brushing Bolls' balls before he gets to his cock.

When he started, Sean wasn't getting there as fast as usual with lotion on his hand, but thinking about Bolls is making it faster. Good, too.

And then he thinks about touching Bolls' cock, wrapping his hand around it and stroking it like he's stroking his now. Bolls is cut, so that would be a little different, no foreskin to play with, just the head of Bolls' cock out there, between Sean's fingers, under the skirt.

Sean groans a little, thinking about that, about how he would be able to feel Bolls' cock but not see it, just the motion of his hand under Bolls' skirt. And if Bolls spread his legs a little, the skirt would stretch, riding up over his thighs, tight across the movement of Sean's hand.

Sean's fantasy doesn't get much farther than that, because thinking about jerking Bolls off under his skirt is so good he gets stuck there, at least as long as it takes him to come.

It's not as long as he was idly thinking about spending on jerking off, but it's longer than he's ever spent doing it, and unlike the other times when it was just okay, he can't wait to do it again.

He's not sure if he should feel thankful for that or annoyed.

*

So maybe Sean has a more normal appreciation of jerking off now, but it's not helping him stay normal with his team. With Bolls. He's trying, okay? He's really trying, but it's not working. Sometimes he looks at Bolls and all he can see are his arms and his thighs and his beard. It's not how he's supposed to look at a teammate.

No one calls him on it, so Sean thinks he's getting away with it, until Bolls hooks an arm around his neck after practice one day and says, "Come over and hang with me this afternoon." It's phrased like an invitation, but the tension in Bolls' arm makes it clear it's a command.

"Sure," Sean says, like he would if it were any of the other guys inviting him to hang out.

"You're going to be real disappointed," Gratts warns. "Monny's just as boring as he looks."

Sean flips him off.

"I guess I'll find out," Bolls says, and it wouldn't sound like a threat except for the way his arm is still a little too tight around Sean's neck.

Sean and Lance rode in to the rink together, so Sean climbs into Bolls' car for the drive over to his place. Sean relaxes a little on the drive, because mostly he and Bolls chirp each other about their music choices. Hanging out at Bolls' starts out easy too, because Bolls fires up the Wii and challenges him to a game of Mario Kart.

Sean loses the first round, but he's on his way to making a comeback on the second. Then Bolls gets him with a sneak attack by just asking, "What's up with you?"

Sean says, "Nothing," which is met with skeptical silence as he goes crashing off the track.

Sean swears and demands a rematch.

Bolls silently starts them up again, but it's no good; Sean can't get his concentration back, and when he loses a third time, he drops the controller onto the couch next to him.

"It's nothing," Sean says, not looking away from the screen.

"See, I don't believe that," Bolls says. He restarts the game on single player mode and keeps talking while he plays. "Obviously there's something up with you."

Sean sighs and admits that his first play isn't going to work. He regroups and says, "It's not really a big deal."

"You spend a lot of time either looking at me or trying very hard not to look at me," Bolls says. Somehow having this conversation isn't causing him to lose a game. "So that's a big deal to me."

Sean makes a face he hopes Bolls doesn't see. "I'll get it together."

"Really?" Bolls asks skeptically. "Because you haven't been able to yet. You want to just tell me what it is that's fucking you up so we can deal with it?" It's a question, but his tone makes it sound less like a request than an order.

"No," Sean says. He doesn't embarrass easily, but he can feel his cheeks going red. No way he wants to tell Bolls what's going on inside his head.

Bolls pauses the game and sets the controller down before he turns to face Sean. Sean's pretty sure he's not trying to be threatening or anything, but having a built enforcer stare you down on his couch is pretty intimidating.

"Okay," Bolls says, "then let me guess, because this started after Halloween."

Sean can't keep from cringing, and Bolls' face sets into deeper lines.

"So what," Bolls asks, crossing his arms over his chest like he needs to look more intimidating, "exactly is your problem with me?"

And, shit, Sean has really fucked this up. "It's not a problem," he says.

Bolls doesn't look like he believes that for a second. "Really," he says again, flatly. "Because from my perspective it looks like you found out I dressed up as a cheerleader for Halloween one year and now you have a fucking problem with me."

Sean has a few seconds to weigh which is worse for himself and his team: not saying anything and letting Bolls think Sean has a problem with that or humiliating himself and telling the truth.

"I don't have a problem with you," Sean says, and he can be completely honest about that. "I-" He looks at the still grim look on Bolls' face and decides it's better to humiliate himself. "I do keep thinking about you in a cheerleading uniform, but I'm into it."

Bolls' look softens from grim to neutral. "You're into it."

Sean nods, and he looks away from Bolls.

"Huh."

Bolls is quiet for a moment, and when Sean risks a glance at him, he's dropped his arms and is looking at Sean curiously.

"Into it like you'd want to try it, or into it like you want to see me in a cheerleading uniform?"

This is already so embarrassing; why does Bolls have to keep asking him things?

"The second one," Sean admits without looking at Bolls.

Bolls says, "Huh," and then, "stay there."

Sean tips his head against the back of the couch and stares at the ceiling. Why the fuck couldn't he have just been normal about this?

Bolls is gone for a few minutes, long enough for Sean to rethink every choice that brought him to this moment. He didn't have to play hockey. He could be in university right now listening to a lecture on astrophysics or French history or whatever it is you have to listen to lectures about in university. Okay, maybe he wouldn't trade hockey for that, but at least then he wouldn't be in this situation. Probably. Maybe. Maybe it doesn't matter and whatever path he chose would always lead to him embarrassing himself like this.

He stops staring at the ceiling when he hears Bolls' footsteps come back into the room, and then he almost chokes on absolutely nothing because Bolls is _wearing a cheerleading uniform_. Shirt tight across his chest and showing off his shoulders and his arms. Pleated skirt that only covers the very top of this thighs. Legs looking impossibly long. He looks better than any of Sean's fantasies about this.

Sean drags his eyes up to Bolls' face. "Um."

Bolls smirks at him. "Yeah, I thought you wouldn't care that it's not the Cowboys uniform."

"Um," Sean says again. He has no idea what Bolls is talking about.

Bolls' cheeks are flushed under his beard, when Sean can keep his eyes on his face and not get distracted by his arms and his thighs and that fucking _skirt_.

"You're really into it," Bolls says.

Sean can feel his whole face turning red, but he can't think of anything to say, and really can't think of anything to say when Bolls walks toward him. Maybe this isn't happening. Maybe this is another one of his fantasies and it just seems very, very real.

But then Bolls is _right_ in front of him and putting his hand under Sean's chin to make him look up from Bolls' skirt to his face. "I'm pretty into how into it you are."

Sean's still gaping at him stupidly when Bolls smiles at him, sunny like a cheerleader, and says, "Tell me if you can't take it," and then _straddles Sean's thighs_.

Sean can absolutely take it. Maybe not if he also has to think while Bolls is in his lap in a cheerleading uniform. But Bolls doesn't seem to expect him to think, so he can take it.

Bolls puts his hands on Sean's face and tilts his head, and then Bolls is kissing him, and after a stunned second, Sean kisses him back.

Bolls isn't going slow, just going for it, licking deep into Sean's mouth and keeping his head tilted exactly how he wants it. After a minute, one of his hands slides down, over the back of Sean's head, down his neck, to the center of his back. Bolls hitches forward while he does that, and Sean brings his own arms up, puts them around Bolls. The uniform's fabric is thick under his fingers, and stretched tight over Bolls' back.

"Oh, fuck, Bolls," he groans when Bolls moves down to his neck. He could feel Bolls' beard against his chin when they were kissing, but it's different against his neck. Better.

Sean barely bites back a whine when Bolls stops.

"Brandon," Bolls says.

Sean blinks at him.

"You're about to get your hand under my skirt," Bolls says. "Call me Brandon."

Sean's train of thought stutters to a complete stop.

"You're about to get your hand under my skirt," Bolls- Brandon says again, and this time he takes one of Sean's hands off his back and puts it on his thigh.

There's muscle there, a lot of it under Sean's hand.

Brandon smirks at him, and then ducks in to kiss him some more. Sean kisses back, distracted by that for a moment, until Brandon shifts in his lap and his thigh flexes under Sean's hand.

Sean grips Brandon's thigh reflexively, and then loosens his hand and slides it up. And up. Brandon doesn't stop him, so Sean keeps groping him, feeling all that muscle and the softer skin on the inside of Brandon's thigh.

Sean has to stop kissing Brandon, too overwhelmed to do more than one thing at a time. He tips his forehead against Brandon's, breathing hard, while he keeps moving his hand up. He hits the crease of Brandon's thigh, and he inches his hand a tiny bit higher and. And there's just skin under his fingers.

"Fuck," he breathes out. He looks down. He can just see the shape of his hand under the pleats of the skirt, and he can see that Brandon is enjoying this.

Brandon rolls his hips up into Sean's hand. "Keep going." He says it quietly, like they're in their own tiny bubble even within the silence of Brandon's apartment.

Sean moves his hand in, sliding over Brandon's skin. He hits the wiry tangle of Brandon's pubes, and then his hand is brushing against Brandon's cock. Brandon isn't stopping him, has his forehead against Sean's, both of them looking down at what it looks like when Sean wraps his hand around Brandon's cock under his skirt.

Sean strokes Brandon's cock a few times, listening to the way Brandon's breath hitches when he does. "Fuck, Brandon," he says helplessly, and he tips his head up to kiss Brandon.

Brandon kisses him back, moans into Sean's mouth when Sean draws his hand up Brandon's cock. So much hotter than even Sean's best fantasy. Sean's hard too, cock pressing against the fly of his jeans, but he doesn't want to stop touching Brandon to do anything about it.

Brandon stops him, pulls back a little, puts his hand over his skirt to stop the movement of Sean's hand.

Sean bites his lip. He doesn't want to stop, wants to keep touching Brandon until he comes all over his skirt.

"The really slutty cheerleaders," Brandon says, his voice gratifyingly hoarse, "let their dates finger them in the back seats of their cars."

Sean's mind flashes on that, the two of them crowded into the back seat of his car, his hands under Brandon's skirt like that, his fingers inside Brandon.

"But even the less slutty ones might let a guy finger them on the couch."

It takes a second for Sean to realize what Brandon's saying. What he's offering. When he does, he groans. "Really? You'd let me-" He cuts himself off because Brandon is leaning over him toward the end table, and the shift of his body is enough to rub up against Sean's dick, and, well, he's a little more aware of how fucking hard he is and how much he really wants to come.

Brandon yanks open the table's one drawer and grabs at a small bottle. He slams the drawer shut, sits up, and gives the bottle to Sean.

The downside here is that Sean has to stop touching Brandon's dick to make this work. A downside.

"I haven't, um," Sean says while he clicks the lube open.

"Go slow until I tell you not to," Brandon says. "Lots of lube." He nods when he decides Sean has enough, and then he holds his skirt out of the way until Sean has his fingers pressed right up against his ass. "That's it," Brandon says. "Put one in me. Slow."

Sean does, pressing against Brandon until his finger slips inside. It's a little bit weird, nothing like getting into a girl, really, but he likes the way Brandon moves against him while he does it. When he looks down, he can see that Brandon's still hard under his skirt.

Sean moves his finger, slow like Brandon said to.

"There you go, Monny," Brandon says with a smirk. "Now you're getting the idea."

Sean stops moving. "I have my finger in your ass," he says. "Call me Sean."

Brandon just smirks at him more. "You want me to say your name, baby?"

"Say whatever you want, _Bolls_." Sean moves his finger again, twisting and bending it until whatever he does makes Brandon gasp.

"Okay, another one," Brandon says.

Sean's starting to figure out how this goes, so when he gets a second finger into Brandon, he manages to make Brandon gasp pretty quickly.

Brandon recovers a little, though, and any thought Sean might have about trying to make him lose it again goes flying out of his head because what Brandon does in that pause when he's not gasping at what Sean's doing is unbutton Sean's jeans.

Sean pauses, holding his fingers still inside of Brandon, while Brandon gets his jeans open and his cock out, and then he has to do something because the feeling of Brandon's hand on his cock is too good not to.

When Sean moves his fingers inside of Brandon, Brandon squeezes his dick and then they're both gasping for air. They're professional athletes who know how to use their bodies, so it's just a minute or so until they're working together in a coordinated rhythm.

Brandon has his other arm hooked around Sean's shoulders, using it to pull himself closer to kiss him, and he seems pretty well balanced on Sean's lap, so Sean gets his free hand under the front of Brandon's skirt again and wrapped around his cock.

It's so fucking hot.

Sean gasps wetly into Brandon's mouth, kisses him messily, and then stops, resting their foreheads together so he can look down between them. He can see his cock and the slide of Brandon's thick fingers over it. He can't see Brandon's cock, but he can see the motion of his own hand over it under Brandon's skirt.

"Fuck you're so into this," Brandon groans.

"Yeah, you think?" Sean kisses Brandon, bites at his mouth, a little more vicious than what they've been doing. "This is the fucking hottest thing I've ever done."

Brandon's cheeks are flushed all the way red under his beard. "Me too," he says, and fuck, that makes it even hotter.

Sean redoubles his efforts to make it better for Brandon, twisting his fingers inside Brandon until every press of them makes Brandon groan, twisting his other hand and making sure he rubs over all the sensitive parts of Brandon's cock.

He's still looking down when Brandon comes, watching the movement of his hand under Brandon's skirt. Brandon clutches at him, arm around his shoulders and ass around his fingers, and makes a noise that can only be called a moan.

Brandon's fingers go slack on Sean's cock while he comes, but he tightens them again afterwards, and Sean watches Brandon's come soak into his skirt while Brandon jerks him off, sure and steady, until Sean's shouting as Brandon makes him come.

Everything goes fuzzy for a minute after that.

Brandon's hand on his wrist makes him pay attention again, and he carefully takes his fingers out of Brandon's ass. He rests his hands on Brandon's waist, since his skirt is a mess already.

"Damn, Monny," Brandon says, face still flushed, sweat glistening across his forehead. "That was something else. I didn't know you had it in you."

Sean is not too out of it to volley back with, "You're the one who had it in you."

It makes Brandon throw his head back and laugh before he gets off of Sean's lap.

*

Hooking up with Brandon does not in any way get it out of Sean's system. If anything, he wants more.

Sean has been around locker rooms full of guys his whole life, and maybe he hasn't been into jerking off all that much before, but that doesn't mean he hasn't absorbed a lot of the talk he's heard.

One of those half-remembered conversations is about something you can stick your dick in to jerk off with. He googles it and gets to the Fleshlight website. He's in his room with his laptop screen facing away from the door, but he still looks up to make sure he locked the door.

He goes for the classic one, because it means he can make a choice and get out of there quickly, and he chooses the one made to look like a butt because the one that looks like a mouth just looks weird and he's not, he's pretty sure now, interested in sticking his dick in vaginas, even ones that are made out of whatever space-age materials make up Fleshlight's trademarked and patented material. He also pays for expedited shipping, and he keeps an eye on the tracking information so he can get to it without Boums trying to open the box.

Sean follows the instructions when it arrives and washes the part his dick goes in, then puts lube in it. It's not exactly sexy. It kind of is, because it's a thing he's going to stick his dick in and when he sticks one of his fingers in it, it seems like it's going to feel good. But it's also a really, really pink fake asshole in a plastic casing.

Sean thinks about Brandon instead, about having Brandon on his lap and his fingers in Brandon's ass. And, yeah, that does it for him. That really does it for him, because it was hot enough when he was just fantasizing about it, but now he has the memory to go with it.

He strokes his cock a few times, getting himself all the way hard. Not quite as hot as having Brandon's hand on him while he looked down at Brandon's skirt spread out over his thighs, but hot enough.

Sean puts lube on his cock and then he pushes the head of his cock through the fake asshole. It's surprisingly good, the softness of the thing around his dick, the lube making it an easy slide. He gets his whole dick in there, and then he moves it, and, yeah, this is good.

It gets even better when he goes back to thinking about Brandon while he does it. Thinks about maybe getting his dick in Brandon like this, and his hand and his hips jerk at that thought, and then it's just really fucking good. Sean barely has to think about Brandon then, although he does, thinks about Brandon in that fucking cheerleading uniform, the way Brandon's thigh felt under his hand. He jerks himself off with the Fleshlight while he thinks about that, and it's good, soft and tight and slick around his cock, and he comes like that with the memory of how Brandon looked in that cheerleading uniform behind his eyes.

The thing is kind of a pain to clean up, especially when he could easily slide right into a nap after that, but it was good, and he can see why guys would talk about it now.

*

Hooking up with Brandon doesn't stop Sean from looking at him too long, or trying not to look at him, or being weird about it in any of the other ways he was weird about it before. The difference is that now when Brandon notices, he smirks at Sean or smiles or raises his eyebrows.

The difference is also that instead of demanding in front of everyone that Sean come hang out with him, Brandon texts him and tells him if he wants to hang out, he can come over in twenty minutes.

The twenty minutes makes sense when Sean gets there and Brandon lets him in while staying mostly hidden behind the door. He's in a cheerleading uniform again. A different one this time. Same kind of pleated skirt, but this one has a top that covers up Brandon's pecs but leaves his abs totally bare.

"Oh, shit," Sean says.

Brandon grins at him, and the set of his shoulders somehow gets more boastful than braced. "Like it?"

"Fuck, yes." Sean jerks forward, and then stops, not sure exactly what he's allowed to do here.

Brandon rolls his shoulders back. "If you're not touching me in two seconds," he says, and Sean takes way less than two seconds to get his hands on the bare skin between Brandon's top and his skirt.

"Fuck," Sean says. "Fuck, Brandon." He runs his hands up and down Brandon's sides, from the bottom of his shirt to the top of his skirt, feeling the bare skin between the thick bands of fabric.

"I picked it out just for you," Brandon says.

Sean lets out a disbelieving laugh, and then surges forward and kisses Brandon hard. Brandon kisses him back and doesn't put up any resistance as Sean pushes him back into the wall.

It's easy to keep Brandon in place there while Sean kisses him over and over again. He gets his thigh between Brandon's, can feel Brandon hard against his thigh, can look down to see his jeans against Brandon's skirt.

Sean bites his way down to Brandon's neck, and he knows it's a bad idea, isn't really going to do it, but he wants to leave a mark, suck a hickey into Brandon's neck. He settles for scraping his teeth lightly over Brandon's skin, and then over to where the shirt starts.

He has to pull back then, and look at Brandon again, and this time Brandon slouches into the wall a little, pushing his hips hard against Sean's thigh and looking up at him.

Sean almost doesn't know what to do with that, but then he thinks about last time, about the muscle of Brandon's thighs under his hands, and he puts one hand under Brandon's skirt, pulls his leg up so it's hitched halfway around Sean's waist.

Brandon chuckles a little. "If that's how you want it," he says, and he tugs Sean in again, has to tip his head up for Sean to kiss him.

Sean digs his fingers into Brandon's thigh to keep him where he is, loves feeling Brandon's leg around him, like Brandon's trying to keep Sean there just as much as Sean's working to keep Brandon there.

"Hey," Brandon says after another few - two? seven? ten? - minutes of making out and slowly grinding against each other, "you ever get a blowjob from a cheerleader?"

Sean's hips jerk. "No," he says, breathless.

Brandon grins at him and pushes him away, turns them so Sean's the one with his back to the wall. Then he gets on his knees, and this isn't going to be a very long blowjob. The pleats of the skirt fall around Brandon's thighs, but don't do anything to hide the fact that he's hard. From this angle, Sean can't really see the place where Brandon's midriff is bare, but he knows it's there, knows that the shirt he can see over Brandon's shoulders doesn't cover everything.

Brandon looks up at him, red cheeks under his beard, swollen lips where Sean kissed him, and he keeps looking while he gets Sean's jeans open.

No matter what happens next, Sean's going to be jerking off to this moment later.

Brandon stops looking up at him when Sean's jeans are open, looks there instead while he gets Sean's cock out. Sean appreciates the care to make sure he's not scraping his dick on his zipper, but he really appreciates the way Brandon looks up at him again for a moment before he puts his mouth on Sean's dick.

Sean's head thunks against the wall. It's so fucking good, Brandon's mouth hot and wet on him. He lifts his head after a few seconds, because he can't not look at Brandon's lips wrapped around his cock, the slight hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks, the skirt still draped around him.

"Fuck," Sean says, and, "Brandon," and then it becomes a litany of noise as he tries to tell Brandon how much he likes it without actually having the presence of mind to string together a coherent sentence.

Everything about Brandon's mouth is perfect, and Sean has to reach down and touch him. He tries not to pull Brandon's hair, but he pushes one hand into it, puts his other hand on Brandon's cheek.

Brandon's lips are busy, but the smirk reaches his eyes when he shifts a little so Sean can feel his dick pressing against Brandon's cheek.

Sean's incoherent noises get louder, and he has to fight not to close his eyes, to look at Brandon like this for as long as he can. He doesn't really manage to warn Brandon when he's about to come, and his hips jerk without his conscious direction, fucking his dick into Brandon's mouth.

Brandon takes it. He takes it and he swallows and then Sean really does have to close his eyes and be really fucking thankful for the wall holding him up.

"Sorry," he says after a few seconds. "I should have-" He stops when Brandon squeezes his hip.

"Not like I minded," Brandon says, and his voice is rough. Because he was just sucking Sean's cock. That sound is going in Sean's spank bank along with the rest of it.

"Fuck," Sean says.

Brandon grins up at him, and Sean wants, well, a lot of things, but the first one is to slide to the floor and kiss Brandon. It means he's tasting himself in Brandon's mouth, and that's a little weird, but not weird enough to make him stop.

He tugs Brandon forward, and then stops and looks down when Brandon moans into his mouth. Brandon's still hard, dick visible even under the pleats of his skirt.

Getting his hand under Brandon's skirt is just as hot as it was the first time, and Brandon's not wearing anything under his skirt this time either. It makes it easy for Sean to wrap his hand around Brandon's cock.

"Yeah, Sean," Brandon says, voice still a little rough. "Fuck, yeah."

Sean jerks him off quickly. As much as he likes feeling Brandon hard in his hand while he looks at Brandon in the cheerleading uniform, it doesn't seem fair to make him wait. He would just look, but this part is for Brandon, so he leans in and kisses him, licks into his mouth and swallows his moans.

"Wait, wait," Brandon says, and Sean stops.

"What?"

Brandon reaches down and flips his skirt up, so his cock is visible, and fuck, Sean didn't really get to look at it last time. He takes a few seconds to look at it, to run his fingers up and down it, getting the picture of it in his mind.

Brandon swears at him, and Sean stops fucking around, goes back to getting Brandon off with tight, swift jerks of his hand. He gets to watch Brandon come this time, the way his abs tighten and his cock spurts out over Sean's hand and Brandon's thighs.

Sean takes his hand off of Brandon's dick and leans in to kiss him after a few seconds.

Brandon pushes that hand away, mutters, "Keep it off the skirt," before he lets Sean kiss him until they're both breathing hard.

Last time, Sean left after, but this time, while they're still sitting on the floor, Sean with his dick still hanging out of his pants and Brandon with his skirt flipped up and come on his thighs, Brandon asks, "Want to stay for dinner?" He eyes Sean up and down. "If you're lucky, I'll keep the uniform on."

"I think I'm already lucky," Sean says.

Brandon chuckles and keeps the skirt away from the come drying on his skin as he gets up. "Luckier, then."

Sean takes a minute before his knees feel steady enough for him to stand up and follow Brandon to the bathroom to clean up.

Brandon keeps the uniform on while he makes dinner, although he puts an apron on over it in the kitchen. Every time he turns his back, Sean can see the apron ties tied across the bare part of Brandon's back. He keeps his hands to himself despite the temptation. He's also pretty sure Brandon knows exactly what he's doing to him.

Sean's distracted over dinner, because Brandon takes the apron off. Sean can't see his bare midriff across the table, but he can see the way the top leaves Brandon's arms bare, and he knows what else Brandon's wearing. And what else he's not.

Sean offers to help do the dishes after dinner, but Brandon waves him off, and instead he watches Brandon move around the kitchen. He's comfortable and competent, like the cheerleading uniform doesn't change anything about how he knows to move his body. Like it's natural for him.

Sean's most of the way to hard by the time Brandon's done cleaning up, and his jeans aren't doing much to hide it. Not that he wants to hide it.

"Watching me do the dishes gets you hot?" Brandon asks with raised eyebrows.

"Watching you do anything dressed like that gets me hot," Sean says.

Brandon says, "Huh," and then he walks past Sean to the living room. "I blew you earlier. You can at least come feel me up on the couch."

It takes a moment before Sean can move, and then he jerks forward and follows Brandon.

This time Brandon lays himself out on the couch and pulls Sean down on top of him.

Sean goes without protest and lets Brandon manhandle him where he wants him, between his thighs, chests pressed tight together. Brandon brings one leg up and hooks it around Sean's waist, like they were against the wall earlier.

Sean takes that as a hint and puts his hands on Brandon while he kisses him. One hand goes on Brandon's thigh, pulling it up a little more so their dicks get closer. With the other, he pets Brandon's bare midriff for a couple of minutes, and then, thinking about Brandon saying, "feel me up," he gets that hand under the edge of Brandon's shirt.

Brandon says, "Yeah. Yeah that's it, Sean."

Sean keeps groping him while they make out, flexing the hand on Brandon's thigh, petting Brandon's skin as much as he can with the other one. His hips aren't still either, rolling against Brandon's, and he knows Brandon isn't wearing anything under his skirt, so little cloth between their dicks.

"How do cheerleaders feel about going topless?" Sean asks when Brandon's shirt limiting the movement of his hand starts getting too annoying.

"You want to look at my tits?" Brandon asks with a smirk.

Sean pulls his hand out from under Brandon's shirt and gropes his pec over it. "I don't have to."

Brandon arches into the touch, and Sean's felt the underside of his top, fabric stiff and just a little scratchy, and he can imagine what it feels like against Brandon's nipples.

"Fuck," Brandon mutters. " _Fuck_." He pushes Sean back and sits halfway up, enough to pull the shirt off over his head and drop it behind him, onto the floor on the other side of the armrest behind his head.

Sean takes a moment to look at Brandon spread out under him, bare skin all the way to the waist of his skirt, leg still hooked around Sean, cock hard and obvious under his skirt. He touches Brandon before Brandon can demand it, hand sliding up from Brandon's waist to his pec, rubbing the palm of it over Brandon's nipple.

Brandon draws in a breath at that, one Sean can feel as well as hear, and then he has his hands on Sean, pulling him down, one hand going up the back of his shirt, the other clamping hard onto his ass to pull their hips that much closer together.

Sean keeps his hand on Brandon's chest, feels him up some more while they make out again. It's fiercer this time, the two of them fighting to get closer, to lick into each other's mouths, to grind against each other. Sean's just as hard as Brandon, working with him for the friction on his dick that sends sparks up and down his spine.

Brandon hitches his other leg up, hooking his ankle around the back of Sean's leg. It changes things, pulls Sean deeper into the cradle of Brandon's hips. Brandon's gripping him, hands and legs both, like he's trapping Sean there. It's not necessary - Sean isn't going anywhere - but it's good. It's fucking hot, how much Brandon wants him.

"Are we getting naked?" Sean asks.

Brandon shakes his head, cheeks flushed, something desperate in his face. "Fuck, just move." He bites at Sean's lip. "Didn't you ever rub off on someone in high school?"

"No," Sean admits.

Brandon groans, and digs his heels into Sean's ass and the back of his leg. "You missed out. I'm fixing your sexual education."

Sean gasps out a laugh. "You are my sexual education," he says, truth and a retort all at once.

Brandon kisses him, hand gripping tight around the back of Sean's head. "Stop talking and just fucking move."

Sean is moving, but he gets what Brandon's saying, and he focuses on it. Rubs against Brandon. Kisses him. Gropes his chest with the hand still trapped between them. Grinds against him harder, working out what feels best for both of them.

It's fucking hot, and if Brandon and his cheerleading uniform had appeared in Sean's life earlier, maybe he would have done this before.

Brandon gasps out, "Sean," after a bit, fingers and heels digging harder into Sean. Sean meets it with a flurry of thrusts against Brandon, moving fast and hard, feels like he's working harder to get them off than he's ever worked for anything before.

Brandon cries out when he comes, and Sean watches his face, the flush under his beard, the way his mouth opens and his eyes close. Sean doesn't stop moving, so fucking turned on it shouldn't take much, shouldn't take anything to make him come.

"Fuck," Brandon mutters, not making him stop even though it has to be too much to have Sean still grinding against his dick. "Fuck, Sean. Come on, baby."

And that's it, the casual endearment, as stupid as that is, that makes Sean come. He screws his eyes shut this time, hips working against Brandon's all the way through the wash of pleasure that floods through him.

Brandon kisses him after, and they make out again, slower this time without the urgency of racing toward coming. It's a while before Brandon unwraps his limbs from around Sean and lets him get up.

*

They hook up half a dozen times over the next few weeks. It's always Brandon inviting Sean over, and he's always wearing a cheerleading uniform when Sean gets there. There are four that Sean knows about, the first two he saw, a third one that's a skirt and top, and the Dallas Cowboys one. The Cowboys one has hot pants that stretch tight and obvious over Brandon's dick, but mostly Sean prefers the skirts. It's usually the skirts that are in his jerk off fantasies, but sometimes it's just about Brandon's mouth or his arms or the way he smiles at Sean.

Brandon and his cheerleading uniforms are enough of a pattern that Sean's surprised when he heads over to Brandon's after Brandon texts him and Brandon answers the door in the same jeans and henley he was wearing after practice.

"Hey," Sean says, trying to be cool about being wrong about Brandon inviting him over for a booty call.

"Hey," Brandon says. If Sean didn't know that Brandon never gets nervous, he would think Brandon's nervous.

Sean follows Brandon into the living room. He has some very fond thoughts about Brandon's couch, but it looks like this visit isn't going to be the kind that lets him create more of the same kind of good memories he already has of it.

"Look," Brandon says when they're sitting down, "it's not that I don't want to hook up with you. I just-" He shrugs, looking more uncomfortable than Sean has ever seen him. "Is it only the cheerleader thing?"

"Uh," Sean says. He probably should say something else, but he goes for the truth. "It started that way." He can feel himself turning red, but it's not the first time he's been embarrassed about something Brandon confronted him about. "The cheerleading uniform was kind of a revelation." He might even be underselling it at that. "But it's not just that." He looks at Brandon, who's watching him fairly patiently, and, yeah, it's not just the cheerleading uniform. "I, uh, want to hook up with you no matter what you're wearing."

"Yeah?" Brandon asks.

"Yeah," Sean says. "For sure."

Brandon smiles at him, and he looks even better like that, hot like always but also happy with Sean. Sean really wants to kiss him, and he thinks that for a moment before he decides just thinking about it is stupid when he could be doing it instead.

Brandon laughs a little when Sean kisses him, and then pulls him closer, manhandles him until they're stretched out on the couch, Sean on top of Brandon. "I guess you do want to hook up with me."

"Yeah," Sean says. Then he kisses Brandon, because that's what he wants to do more than talk about it. This part he knows how to do, and it's not even that different with Brandon in jeans instead of a skirt. A little different because it's not bare skin Sean touches when he grabs at Brandon's thigh, but other than that Brandon feels the same under him.

Sean gets hard, and so does Brandon. It's a lot like any other time they've hooked up on Brandon's couch.

"Can we take our clothes off?" Sean asks when it gets to a point where the end result of what they're doing is clear.

"Don't want to come in your pants?" Brandon asks.

Sean sits up so he can pull his shirt off. "Not today."

Brandon sits up with him, and strips his shirt off one-handed. Getting their pants off takes a little more work, but not too much, and then Brandon's naked under him on the couch. Sean's seen him naked before, of course, but never when they've hooked up. That's probably weird.

Sean takes a moment to look, Brandon's reddened cheeks, the defined muscles of his chest, his cock full and arching up toward his stomach. He bends down to kiss Brandon, holding his body away from him. If he settles down onto Brandon, he'll forget what else he wants to do.

"Can I blow you?"

Brandon's eyes go wide. "Fuck. Yeah, you can blow me."

Sean kisses Brandon again first, because he likes the way Brandon's mouth feels under his. Then he moves down, brushing a couple of kisses on Brandon's skin along the way, hands rubbing over Brandon's chest, down his abs, coming to rest on Brandon's hips.

Sean hasn't given a blowjob before, but he knows the basic idea, at least, and he wants to, even more now that he's looking at Brandon than in his fleeting thoughts about the things they haven't done yet. There's nothing to do but get to it, which Sean does by putting his mouth on Brandon, licking at him a little while he gets used to it. Brandon's dick mostly tastes like skin, a little saltier at the tip. The feel of it filling up Sean's mouth is weirder, but not in a bad way. He decides, as he sucks carefully, that he kind of likes it. Amends that to definitely likes it when Brandon's hips push up against his hands. Sean holds Brandon's hips down - letting him move like that is definitely a more advanced blowjob technique than Sean's ready for - but sucks a little less carefully.

The movement of his hips isn't Brandon's only reaction. He also talks to Sean, says, "Fuck," and, "Yes," and, "That's so good, Sean."

It's good from Sean's side of things too, more than he thought it would be. He involuntarily rubs his hips down against the couch while he sucks Brandon off. He could probably get off like this too, but he puts more energy into getting Brandon off. That's the main point here, and Sean wants to know what it feels and tastes like when Brandon comes in his mouth.

He doesn't stop sucking when Brandon warns him he's about to come. He only manages to swallow part of it, drawing back as it becomes too much and making a mess out of both of them.

"Oh, fuck," Brandon says, breathless.

Sean raises his head to look at something other than Brandon's dick. Brandon's whole face is red, his abs heaving like he just went through a power skating session.

Sean's not sure exactly what's going on with his face, except for the part where his chin is covered in Brandon's come, but it makes Brandon say, "Come up here, baby."

And, okay, another thing Sean has learned from all of this: Brandon calling him "baby" really does it for him. Brandon doesn't say it much, which might be part of what makes it hotter.

Sean's dick protests the lack of friction when he lifts himself up and crouches over Brandon. Sean decides not to worry about that for a minute, because Brandon puts his hands on Sean's face and draws him down into a kiss. It's messy, messier even than when they kiss after Brandon sucks Sean off. It stays messy, because Brandon wraps his hand around Sean's cock and jerks him off while they make out and Sean can't concentrate on keeping the kiss steady through that.

"Baby," Brandon says when Sean gets close and loses even more of his coordination, "you sucked me off so good. Come for me now," like he knows how good that is for Sean.

Sean comes hard, making more of a mess out of Brandon, and then collapses onto him, spreading the mess all over both of them. Brandon doesn't seem to mind. He just wraps his arms around Sean and kisses the side of his head.

"You good?"

"Fuck," Sean says without moving. "I might pass out here, but yeah, I'm good."

"If you're going to pass out, we should at least go to bed." He can hear Brandon's grin even if he doesn't turn his head to see it. "Haven't done that yet."

Sean manages a chuckle. "Is that what I get for hooking up with you without the costume?"

"One of the things you get," Brandon says, and this time Sean does raise his head to see Brandon's grin. It gets him a kiss before Brandon really does lever them off the couch and take Sean to his bed for a nap.

*

They keep hooking up. Sometimes Brandon's in a cheerleading uniform and sometimes he's not. Sean's into it either way, finally understanding why people get so excited about sex. He takes the initiative sometimes and asks Brandon if he can come over, but Brandon's always the one who decides what he's going to wear. It becomes enough of a pattern that the other guys know they're friends, and Boums just accepts it as normal when Sean goes over to hang out with Brandon.

On a night when Sean knows Brandon doesn't have plans, he heads over to Brandon's unannounced, and texts, _I'm downstairs. Can I come up?_

Brandon buzzes him into the building and is waiting in the doorway when Sean gets to his apartment. He leans in to kiss Sean once they're inside. "Booty calls are supposed to involve an actual call."

Sean chuckles. "Yeah, sorry."

Brandon shrugs. "I'm down for it anyway."

That's a good lead-in to the reason Sean didn't preface his booty call with an actual call. "Would you be down for-" He hands over the bag he brought up with him instead of finishing the question, and then, hurriedly, says, "Don't open it."

Brandon raises his eyebrows at him.

Sean can feel himself starting to blush. "I'm going to go get us dinner. Don't look until I'm gone, and then if you want to wear it, you can." He doesn't give Brandon time to respond to that. "Burgers and fries okay?"

"Sure," Brandon says, and the way he's looking at Sean and not the bag has some of the same determination he has out on the ice.

"Milkshake?"

Brandon's eyebrows quirk upwards again. "Sure. Vanilla."

Sean nods and leaves before they can talk about it anymore. He tries not to focus too much on what it's going to be like if Brandon puts on the outfit Sean got him, or what it's going to be like if he doesn't.

Sean changes his jacket when he gets back to Brandon's building, swapping out his normal one for the one he had made. Only then does he get out of the car and go up to Brandon's apartment.

Brandon opens the door while keeping it between him and the hallway, which gives Sean a bare second to brace himself for the effect of Brandon in an outfit he picked out. It's a cheerleading uniform, one that Sean had custom made. The white, sleeveless top is edged in red. The red, pleated skirt has a broad stripe of white at the bottom, and a thinner one a few inches above it. It isn't that different from some of Brandon's other uniforms, except that this one has the Flames logo, their logo, across the chest. That would be enough to make Sean breathless and half-hard on its own, but Brandon's added to it: something sparkly on his eyelids and lipstick that makes his mouth a red slash in the middle of his beard.

"Oh, fuck," Sean says.

Brandon grins at him. "I figured you wouldn't mind if I improvised a little."

"Uh, no," Sean says. He toes off his shoes without taking his eyes off of Brandon. "It's. Yeah, it's good."

Brandon looks him up and down. "Yours isn't so bad either."

Sean's outfit is just as carefully chosen: jeans, a white v-neck, and the jacket. It's a letter jacket, red body, white sleeves, the Flames logo on the back, Sean's name and number embroidered in white on the front. It's made to match Brandon's cheerleading uniform.

Sean is the one who takes them to the table. They don't always eat there, but since they can't go to a burger joint like this, Sean figures it's the next best thing. After he sets the bags of food and the drink carrier on the table, he shrugs out of the jacket and holds it out to Brandon.

"I don't want you to get cold."

Brandon looks like he might laugh, but he takes the jacket and pulls it on. It's a little big on Sean, which means it fits Brandon like it belongs on him. Except that it has Sean's name on it.

They sit across from each other at the table, and they mostly have the same kind of conversation they would any time they're hanging out. Brandon smirks a little every time Sean loses track of the conversation watching Brandon's bright red lips wrap around his straw or his fingers holding a fry.

Sean cleans up after dinner, leaning down to exchange a quick kiss with Brandon as he takes Brandon's trash from him.

"I feel like I should be taking a bathroom trip with the other cheerleaders," Brandon says, "while all our boyfriends talk about the game."

"Uh," Sean says.

Brandon laughs. "Nah, it's hot, this whole high school fantasy you've got going on." He gets up and comes over to Sean. "You look the part." He puts his hand on Sean's cheek. "The classic good looks, the hair that's always perfect."

Sean laughs. "It's not always perfect." He puts his arms around Brandon's middle. He'd be able to feel Brandon's skin in the gap between his top and skirt if it weren't for Sean's jacket over his uniform.

Brandon doesn't give him a chance to argue the point any more than that; he leans in and kisses Sean. His lips are unfamiliarly sticky with the lipstick that hasn't come off yet, and Sean gets a hint of the waxy taste of it when he deepens the kiss.

Sean doesn't need any encouragement to get into it, not with the way Brandon's dressed and how Sean's gotten to look at him since he walked in the door. They make out in the kitchen for a long time. Sean takes charge - because Brandon lets him; Sean's not fooling himself that he could ever do anything Brandon didn't let him do - and presses Brandon against the counter. He's grinding against Brandon when Brandon suddenly laughs, and then kisses the side of Sean's head.

"Hey," Brandon says, nuzzling at Sean's ear. "My parents aren't home tonight. We could go to my room."

Sean can't help laughing a little at that, even while he finds it almost unbearably hot. He's learning all kinds of things about what he likes from this thing with Brandon. "Yeah. I don't want to pressure you," he says, making Brandon shake with silent laughter, "but-"

"But you really want to take this somewhere other than makeout point," Brandon finishes for him.

Sean's laughing again too. "Yeah."

"Well, come on, baby." Brandon takes Sean's hand and leads him into his bedroom where he pushes Sean down onto the bed.

Brandon's lipstick is smeared and half rubbed off. Probably some of it is on Sean's face too, but he ignores that possibility and looks at the way Brandon's mouth looks instead.

"I could blow you," Brandon says, sitting back to look at Sean spread out on his bed.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Sean says, squeezing his eyes shut at the shot of pure lust that shoots through him at the offer. At thinking about Brandon's mouth with its already messy lipstick wrapped around his cock.

"Yeah," Brandon says. "I think so." He leans over Sean and kisses him deep and dirty. His mouth is wet when he pulls away, and Sean keeps his eyes on that while Brandon opens his jeans and gets his cock out.

Brandon's red lips look just as good around Sean's cock as he thought they would. His lipstick gets even more smeared as he moves up and down Sean's cock. Probably some of it is coming off on Sean's cock.

This is going to be the shortest blowjob Sean's ever gotten.

Sean hangs on as much as he can, watches Brandon's lips and the sparkle of the makeup on his eyelids, says Brandon's name a lot. Brandon's still wearing Sean's jacket, which means he doesn't get to see Brandon's shoulders while they do this. On the other hand, it means Brandon's still in his jacket, Sean's name on his chest even more of a claim than Brandon wearing the outfit Sean picked out for him.

Sean gasps out a warning when he's just about to come. Brandon flashes a look up at him, then lowers his eyelids while he sucks hard at the head of Sean's cock. Sean squeezes his eyes shut as he comes, and the sparkle of Brandon's eye makeup expands into a golden starburst behind his eyelids.

Brandon's mouth leaves his cock while Sean's still trying to remember how to breathe. It's a thing he knows how to do, really. He just has to remind his body of that fact.

Brandon gives him just a few moments to recover before he says, "Just because you got a blowjob from a cheerleader doesn't mean you're done for the night."

Sean opens his eyes. Brandon's mouth is red, but his lipstick is mostly gone by now. He's kneeling up on the bed, and Sean can see his cock pushing against the pleats of his skirt. Brandon's comment probably means he can't just watch Brandon jerk off, but that's okay; Brandon owns the outfit now and Sean will probably get to watch him jerk off in it another time.

"Yeah, I'll do something for you." Sean sits up, which brings him close enough to tug Brandon in and kiss him. He tastes like Sean's come and the last hint of waxiness from the lipstick. "What do you want?"

Brandon shakes his head. "Just touch me."

Sean can do that. He starts with Brandon's legs, running his hands up from the back of Brandon's knees to his thighs, then cupping them around the curves of Brandon's ass. Brandon's not wearing anything under his skirt. For all the times they've done this, that shouldn't surprise Sean anymore, but it still does. It's almost too bad he already came, but at least he's clear-headed enough that he'll be able to remember this part of it when he jerks off to it later.

Sean uses his grip on Brandon's ass to pull him down, so he's straddling Sean's lap. It brings him into easy kissing range again. Sean spends a minute or two kissing Brandon. He'd spend more time on it, but Brandon is starting to squirm in his lap.

"Touch me," Brandon says again, more of a demand this time.

Sean gets his hand around Brandon's cock, which is as thick and hard as Sean's ever felt it. Sean watches the movement of his hand under Brandon's skirt, and it's like the first time they did this. Different in a lot of ways, but like it in more. Brandon's dressed up for Sean, it's ranking in Sean's top ten sexual experiences, and Sean's jerking Brandon off under his skirt.

Sean knows what Brandon likes now, which makes this easier, none of the uncertainty of the first time.

"Baby, you're so good to me," Brandon says, mouth pressed right up against Sean's temple.

In Sean's view, Brandon's pretty damn good to him too, but this is a moment to enjoy what he's doing, not argue with Brandon. Sean kisses him, a few short kisses, dipping in to taste Brandon's mouth, quick moments of connection while he jerks Brandon off.

"Sean, baby," Brandon says. "I'm going to- You're going to make me-"

"Yeah," Sean says. He rubs his thumb over the sensitive spots around the head of Brandon's cock. "Come on, Brandon." He kisses Brandon, deep this time, and then pulls back so he can look at Brandon. "You look so pretty. Let me make you come."

Brandon groans loud and drawn out when he comes all over Sean's hand. They're probably getting come on his skirt too, but it can be cleaned. Or it'll stain, and Sean will think about this moment every time Brandon wears it. Sean finds both options acceptable.

They clean up a little bit with tissues from the box on Brandon's nightstand, and then lie next to each other on Brandon's bed. Sean tucks himself back into his pants, and then they're both fully clothed, which seems weird, but Sean likes what he sees every time he looks at Brandon.

"That was really fucking awesome," Brandon says.

Sean laughs, almost involuntarily, something that bubbles up out of his chest without any conscious thought. "For sure," he agrees.

Brandon turns onto his side and props himself up on one elbow. "You got any other high school fantasies you want to live out? I don't think we can make out under the bleachers, but maybe sneaking into the girls' locker room and finding one of the cheerleaders half out of her uniform?" Sean chuckles at that one, and at, "Star quarterback finds out the nerdy girl is secretly freaky?" He stops laughing at, "Naughty Catholic schoolgirl?"

It's not a fantasy Sean ever knew he had - like pretty much everything else about this thing with Brandon - but now that Brandon's said it, he's thinking about Brandon in that kind of pleated skirt and, like, the fucking knee socks, and yeah, it's doing it for him the same way the cheerleading uniform does.

"Really?" Brandon asks.

Sean drapes one arm over his eyes. "I guess so."

Brandon pats his arm. "Monny, you're a hell of a lot kinkier than I would have ever guessed." At least he sounds like he approves.

*

It's not like Sean forgets about the Catholic schoolgirl conversation. He jerks off thinking about it sometimes. But they hook up at least twice a week when they're at home, and Brandon doesn't bring it up again.

That's why it's a surprise when he goes over to Brandon's and Brandon opens the door wearing a Catholic schoolgirl uniform. The skirt is short, plaid, and pleated. The white shirt isn't one of his usual dress shirts; it's something softer and more feminine. The socks that come up to his knees are the same bright white.

Now it makes sense that Brandon told him to wear something teacher-like.

Brandon grins at whatever look of stupid lust Sean must have on his face. "Like it?" He does a little twirl.

Sean hauls him in for a kiss. "I can't believe the fucking things you do for me."

"Oh, not just for you." Brandon rubs against Sean so Sean can feel that he's already starting to get hard under his skirt. He kisses Sean one more time before he steps back and straightens his skirt. He puts a wide-eyed look on his face, and there's a matching earnestness to his voice when he says, "Mr. Monahan, I know what I did I was wrong, and I promise I'll never do it again."

Sean crosses his arms over his chest and does his best to look stern. "This isn't the first time you've gotten yourself in trouble with me, Miss Bollig."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Monahan." Brandon bites his lip, which could look silly since he's a big guy with a beard dressed up as a Catholic schoolgirl. Mostly it makes Sean want to be the one biting Brandon's lip. "I could make it up to you." He licks his lips.

Sean can definitely see that, Brandon on his knees in front of him in that outfit sucking him off. It's part of the visual he's been jerking off to when he thinks about this. But if they're going to do this, they might as well take it as far as he keeps thinking about.

"That's not going to be enough, Miss Bollig." Sean walks around Brandon and sits down on the couch. "You need to be punished. I think you've earned yourself a spanking this time." Brandon looks surprised by that, and Sean drops out of his stern teacher voice to ask, "Okay?"

A smile briefly tugs the corners of Brandon's eyes and mouth up, and he nods before the smile gets replaced with sulkiness. "A spanking? Come on, Mr. Monahan. It wasn't that bad."

"I'm the judge of that," Sean says, "and this wasn't the first time." He pats his lap. "Come on, Miss Bollig. You're only making things worse for yourself."

Brandon slouches over to Sean. His dick is hard enough to show through the skirt, and there's something bright about his eyes despite the scowl on his face. He folds over Sean's knees, and it takes the two of them a minute to figure out just where Brandon needs to be so he's both comfortable and in a good position for Sean to get to his ass.

Sean flips Brandon's skirt up. Brandon's not wearing anything under it.

"No underwear, Miss Bollig," Sean says, his voice losing some of its put-on sternness because it's always so hot that Brandon doesn't wear anything under his skirts. "I believe that's a dress code violation."

"Nobody was ever going to know," Brandon says sulkily.

"And if you hadn't gotten yourself in trouble, no one would have," Sean says. "You have only yourself to blame."

Sean can feel Brandon take in a breath, probably to argue with him some more, and that's when Sean spanks him for the first time. He doesn't hit Brandon hard - he doesn't want to actually hurt him - but the sound is shockingly loud. Sean pauses for a second. Brandon exhales loudly.

Probably Sean's supposed to like having Brandon at his mercy or something, but what he likes most about it is Brandon's skirt flipped up, Brandon's bare ass turning a light pink. He also likes the way Brandon gets harder while Sean spanks him. He can feel it, Brandon's cock against his thigh. Sean's getting hard too, and Brandon can probably tell from where he is.

When Sean thinks they've done the spanking thing enough - his hand is going to get tired if he goes much longer, and Brandon's ass is all pink splotches - he stops and unceremoniously dumps Brandon onto the floor.

Brandon fumbles onto his knees and looks up at Sean with wide eyes again.

Sean frowns down at Brandon sternly. "Miss Bollig, are you _enjoying_ this? Did you forget that this is a punishment?"

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Monahan," Brandon says. He puts on a very apologetic expression. "I can make it up to you."

"How do you propose to do that?" Sean spreads his legs, letting his pants stretch across his dick and making it clear what he expects Brandon to do.

Brandon shuffles forward so he's right between Sean's legs. Sean keeps his stern expression as much as he can while Brandon unzips his pants and takes out his cock. It takes some real effort and concentration to look stern with Brandon's hands on his dick. Sean's pretty sure he loses the sternness completely when Brandon puts his mouth on his dick.

Sean knows that Brandon knows how to give a blowjob, but Brandon starts out tentative, mouthing at his cock in a way that feels good but isn't going to get him off. Sean's distracted by getting his dick sucked, so it takes him a minute to catch on.

He puts his hands in Brandon's hair and pulls him off his dick. "Miss Bollig," he says, "I'm sure you can do better than that. From what I've heard, you've had some practice at this."

Brandon's whole face turns bright red, and he looks down.

"That's what I thought," Sean says. "You can do better."

This time, Brandon does away with the pretense of incompetence, and Sean forgets all about the role playing. He keeps his hands in Brandon's hair, but leaves them gentle while Brandon sucks him off just short of ruthlessly.

Sean loses himself in it, the feel of Brandon's mouth around him, Brandon's hands resting on his thighs, the noises Brandon makes around his cock. He's pretty sure he's saying Brandon's name and some other sex-inspired meaningless syllables. He's definitely moaning by the time Brandon makes him come.

Sean slumps against the couch for a minute after he comes, breathing hard and looking down at Brandon still kneeling between his legs in that uniform.

The uniform reminds Sean of what they're doing, and that's what makes him struggle out of his orgasm-induced lethargy. He sits up, tucks himself back into his pants, and looks down at Brandon.

"Did that make it up to you, Mr. Monahan?" Brandon asks. His voice is a little rough from sucking Sean off.

"Yes it did, Miss Bollig," Sean says. "In fact, I think that was good enough that you've earned a little reward." He nudges Brandon's knee with his foot. "You can get yourself off now."

Brandon doesn't question him, which probably means he's too turned on by what they've been doing to play the naughty schoolgirl. He flips his skirt up to bare his dick and then wraps his hand around it.

Sean watches him jerk off for a minute, the slick slide of his hand over his dick. Then he nudges Brandon's knee again. "Open your shirt, Miss Bollig. Let me see your tits."

Brandon swears under his breath, but he lets go of his dick and unbuttons the shirt. He looks dirty like this, like someone's messed him up a little, shirt open, skirt flipped up, mouth still swollen and wet from sucking Sean off, dick hard and curving up toward his belly.

"Yeah." Sean settles in like he's getting comfortable for the show. "Keep going," he says. "I want to see you make yourself come."

It's true, and it works to make Brandon start touching himself again. He jerks himself off fast this time, like he's afraid Sean might make him stop again. Sean won't, but he doesn't tell Brandon that; he's enjoying the show.

Brandon must be really fucking turned on, because it takes no time at all before he's moaning Sean's name and coming all over his hand and thighs and skirt.

Sean leans forward and runs his hand through Brandon's hair. Brandon lets out a sigh and leans against Sean's knee.

"You okay?" Sean asks. "I didn't hit you too hard?"

"Nah, I can take it," Brandon says. He wipes his hand off on his skirt, then hauls himself off the floor and onto Sean's lap. He kisses Sean very thoroughly before he says anything else. "You are really fucking kinky."

Sean can feel himself turning red. "Uh."

Brandon laughs. "That's a compliment, baby." He kisses Sean again, soft and so sweet in comparison to everything else they've done today. "Seriously, best fucking sex of my life."

"Mine too," Sean says. He runs his hands up and down Brandon's back, over the blouse he's still half wearing. "I wasn't into sex until I started thinking about you like this," he admits. "Like, I got off, but." He shrugs. "It wasn't anything I wanted to do again like I do now."

It's probably the first time he's really surprised Brandon since the very first time. "Really?"

Sean nods.

"Seriously kinky," Brandon says, and he leans in to kiss Sean again.

*

The Catholic schoolgirl uniform doesn't make it into the regular rotation of things Brandon wears when they hook up like the cheerleading uniforms do, but Brandon wears it once in a while. The hook up on the road sometimes, which is risky, but Brandon has his own room and the guys all know they're friends, so not as risky as it could be. They start going on what Sean can't call anything but dates: going to the movies, going out to dinner just the two of them, cuddling on Brandon's couch while they watch their way through _Arrested Development_ on Netflix.

Sean's kind of expecting to do something with Brandon between their last game of the season and the beginning of the playoffs. The last game is an afternoon one, so they're not out celebrating too late, and they get a complete day off after that.

Brandon's text says, _Come over. Dress nice. Tux if you have one, or your best suit._

Sean does not have a tux, and it's probably too short notice to rent one. Probably not a good idea to rent one anyway, given what he and Brandon do when they dress up. Too late to buy one. Maybe if Brandon had told him whatever he was planning earlier.

Sean does have a black suit that fits him well, which he wears with a crisp white shirt and one of the ties hanging in his closet that's already tied so he can just slip it over his head and tighten it. It would probably be better to have a freshly tied tie, but he doesn't want to endure the questions he would get if he asked Lance to tie one for him.

Sean's pretty sure that whatever they're doing is going to be good - it pretty much always is - but he doesn't quite expect what he gets when Brandon lets him into his apartment. Brandon's in a dress, turquoise, with sequins and made out of whatever the fuck they make dresses out of that makes the skirt take up more space than you would think fabric could. The top of it has a sort of m-curve like it's supposed to be highlighting boobs, and there are skinny straps going from that over Brandon's shoulder. He's wearing makeup again, his lips more pink and less red this time, and the glittery stuff on his eyelids is all blues and greens to match his dress.

Sean's a hockey player, which means he's a big, strong guy. Still, looking at Brandon dressed like that makes his knees go weak. Whatever greeting he was going to give comes out as just garbled noise.

Brandon smiles at him, and it lights up his whole face. "Like it?" He does a slow spin. The back of the dress dips down his back, showing off his tattoo.

"Yeah," Sean manages. He reaches out for Brandon. Brandon comes willingly to him, and Sean kisses him. It's probably smearing his lipstick, but Sean doesn't care; Brandon did this for him, and he deserves a kiss for that at least.

Sean runs his hands down Brandon's back, feeling the bare expanse of it and the place where skin gives way to the fabric of his dress. "I didn't get you a corsage."

Brandon laughs. "I didn't tell you we were going to prom." He kisses Sean's cheek. "And I didn't get you a boutonniere anyway." He steps away from Sean and over to where his phone is plugged into the speakers. He has it set to play something soft and slow.

"Are we slow dancing?" Sean kicks off his shoes and meets Brandon in the middle of the room.

"It's prom. There's dancing at prom." Brandon puts his arms over Sean's shoulders.

Sean chuckles, and rests his hands at the small of Brandon's back. "Is this your high school fantasy?"

Brandon shrugs. "I actually went to my prom." He looks down. "I wore a tux that time."

"Is the dress better?" Sean asks. Not that he would object to slow dancing with Brandon in a tux.

"The date's better." Brandon plays with the hair at the back of Sean's neck. "You know, I have this hot jock boyfriend who likes it when I dress up."

That sends something through Sean that's like the calmer version of how he feels when Brandon calls him baby. He doesn't quite know what to say to it, so he just pulls Brandon close enough that Brandon can put his head down on Sean's shoulder.

Sean's not a great dancer or anything, but there's not a lot of skill involved in swaying to the music and shuffling around the room. It's not like he has a problem holding Brandon close. He does ask, "How much dancing does this prom have?" after the third song.

Brandon lifts his head off of Sean's shoulder. "Getting bored already?"

"No." Sean rubs his hands up and down Brandon's lower back. "But I have this hot cheerleader girlfriend."

Brandon laughs. He steps back a little and slides his hands under the lapels of Sean's suit jacket. "There's a lot of dancing at prom. Enough that it gets pretty hot."

Sean takes the hint and unbuttons his jacket so Brandon can push it off his shoulders. Sean takes it from him and drapes it over the arm of the sofa. He pulls his tie off and drapes it over the jacket. Then, with Brandon still watching him, he unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt. He unbuttons his cuffs too, and rolls his sleeves halfway up his arms.

"What about you?"

Brandon shrugs. "Girls usually just take off their high heels." He lifts up part of his skirt so Sean can see his bare feet. He lets his skirt drop and steps into Sean again. "There's probably some making out too."

Sean kisses him, soft like they're teenagers at a dance. They make out for a little bit while they shuffle in circles around Brandon's living room. The kissing doesn't stay soft and slow. It can't, not when Sean has Brandon in a fucking prom dress in his arms. Their dancing doesn't stay that way either. It's slow for a bit, but then Sean slides one hand down to Brandon's ass and pulls him closer, and then instead of dancing in slow circles, they're grinding against each other, still kind of slow, but out of sync with the music still coming from Brandon's speakers. Sean's hard. There's too much fabric in Brandon's dress to tell if he is too, but he's moving with Sean, so probably.

Brandon's lipstick is half gone when he stops kissing Sean. "I got us a room for tonight." He says it straight, but there's a grin in the way the corners of his eyes crinkle up.

Sean lets the feeling of lustful gratitude for Brandon roll through him. "What are we still doing here then?"

Brandon laughs. "Had to show off my boyfriend to all the other cheerleaders." He detours past his phone to turn off the music, then leads Sean to his bedroom.

Sean catches Brandon around the waist and pulls him in to kiss him, nibble down his neck. "You look so pretty."

"Prom night," Brandon says. "Gotta look good." He pulls away from Sean, but it's only to go over to the bed. He stretches out on it, on his back, head propped up on a pillow. He reaches over to the nightstand, and then puts two things down on the bed next to his hip. The bottle of lube is familiar. The condom is not.

"Uh," Sean says, unable to form any other words.

"Even the non-slutty cheerleaders go all the way on prom night." Brandon's words are light, but the look in his eyes is serious.

Sean stretches out over him on the bed and kisses him, too overwhelmed to do anything else. They haven't done this yet, haven't even talked about it, for all the times Sean's fingered Brandon.

Brandon threads his fingers into Sean's hair. "Come on, baby. You don't even have to talk me into it."

Sean rests his forehead on Brandon's. "You're really great, you know that?"

Brandon smiles, soft and happy, and leans up enough to kiss Sean lightly. "It's a good thing I like what you like." Then he smacks Sean's ass. "You have a cheerleader in a prom dress who wants your dick. Get to work."

Sean laughs even as his dick gets harder. He sits up and looks down at Brandon spread out under him. Brandon doesn't seem inclined to take the dress off, and Sean likes looking at him like this.

There's a lot of fabric making up the skirt of Brandon's dress, and the effort it takes for Sean to gather it all up and move it out of his way makes Brandon laugh. Sean laughs too, then stops when he gets the skirt up over Brandon's waist and finds out that Brandon's not wearing anything under it.

Sean swears under his breath and leans down to kiss Brandon again. "I don't know why you're always saying I'm the kinky one."

Brandon blushes, his cheeks visibly turning red under his beard. "I guess we're both kinky."

"Yeah, I guess." Sean opens the lube and lets it warm against his skin before he presses a finger into Brandon. He's done this before - he's done this kind of a lot - but knowing that he's going to fuck Brandon after he fingers him makes him uncertain, like the first time they did this.

He goes slow, like the first time. He bends over Brandon and kisses him while he moves that one finger carefully inside Brandon.

Brandon nudges Sean's arm with his knee. "You know, I'm not actually a virgin going all the way for the first time on prom night. You can go a little faster."

Brandon knows better than Sean what he can take, so Sean adds more lube and a second finger. Brandon's red from his face all the way down his chest to the edge of his dress. His cock is hard and thick where it juts up, the skirt of Brandon's dress a turquoise backdrop that makes the color of it stand out even more. He moves into the press of Sean's fingers. It's another one of those moments that's going to make it into Sean's spank bank, and his top ten sexual experiences.

"I don't know if I'm going to last long enough for this," Sean confesses.

"Then hurry up," Brandon says. "I can take another one now."

Sean kisses him, spending some time with it, moving his fingers a little, but mostly just kissing Brandon. "You have to be able to skate."

Brandon cups his hand around Sean's cheek. "I'm good," he says. "Come on. I bet none of the other cheerleaders' boyfriends are going this slow."

Sean laughs. "Are you trying to peer pressure me into sex? I think I'm supposed to say no to that." He doesn't, squeezes out more lube and gives Brandon a third finger.

"I think you're supposed to be peer pressuring me into it," Brandon says. He squirms against Sean's fingers. "A little-"

Sean stretches Brandon with his fingers, twists them a little.

"Yeah, like that." Brandon arches into Sean's touch, the skirt under him outlining the tension in his thighs.

Sean finds the place that makes Brandon gasp and swear. He brushes over it a few times as he stretches his fingers, opening Brandon up. He doesn't think about what he's opening Brandon up for; he's already so hard he won't be able to last long enough to fuck Brandon if he does.

Brandon curls himself up, one hand hooking around the back of Sean's head to draw him in for a kiss that Brandon gasps into when Sean moves his fingers just right.

"Okay," Brandon says. "I'm good." He squeezes the back of Sean's neck. "Put the condom on and get your dick in me."

Sean takes in a sharp breath, and he has to kiss Brandon, bite into his mouth, before he can sit back and take his fingers out of Brandon.

His fingers slip on the condom wrapper, enough that Brandon takes it and tears it open for him. Sean hasn't gotten undressed any farther than the jacket and tie left in the living room. He doesn't bother now. He tugs his shirt out of his pants, opens his fly, and gets his dick out.

Sean takes the condom from Brandon, rolls it onto his dick. He adds more lube, trying to touch himself as little as possible in the process so he doesn't come before he gets into Brandon.

Brandon's still laid out in front of him, and when Sean shuffles forward, knees between Brandon's legs, Brandon tips his hips up and smiles at Sean.

"Come on, baby. It's prom night."

Sean chuckles at that, but then the intensity of it hits him again, and he has to make himself remember to even breathe while he carefully guides himself into Brandon. His first thought is that it's so much better than the Fleshlight. Brandon's warm and tight around him, and Sean gets to look at him while they do this. As good as Brandon has looked the whole night, he looks even better with Sean's dick in him. Sean rubs at the inside of Brandon's thigh.

Brandon puts his hand over Sean's, stilling it. "I'm good. You can move."

Sean takes him at his word, and rocks his hips in a thrust that's as slow and steady as he can make it. He does that a couple more times, then bends down to kiss Brandon. They both shift when that happens, and Sean sinks just that little bit deeper into Brandon.

Brandon gasps and grabs at Sean's shoulders. "Like that. Just like that, baby."

Sean does his best to keep their relative positions while he thrusts into Brandon. It takes a lot of effort and all his concentration, so it's a good thing that Brandon wraps a hand around his own dick and starts jerking himself off. It's also too hot for words.

Sean's hanging on to his control with the barest thread of willpower. He loses even that when Brandon says, "Come on, baby. Give it to me."

Sean kisses him, messy and frantic, and gives up trying to keep an even rhythm. He thrusts hard and uneven into Brandon, letting his body and the way it feels guide him. It feels amazing, even better every time he looks at Brandon. His lipstick is smudged, sweat is starting to bead at his hairline, and he's jerking himself off just as hard as Sean's fucking him. And then there's the dress around him, a turquoise background to what they're doing that reminds Sean with every rustle of the fabric just how good Brandon's been to him.

It seems impossible, but Brandon comes first. Sean watches him, the jerk of his cock in his hand, the O of his mouth. It takes an effort to keep his eyes open, to keep looking at Brandon while he thrusts hard and fast into him, less than a minute more before it's too much and he squeezes his eyes shut as he comes.

Sean holds onto the base of the condom as he pulls out, and he pauses to kiss Brandon very thoroughly before he gets up to throw away the condom and wash his hands. "You want a towel or something?" he calls to Brandon from the bathroom.

"Washcloth," Brandon calls back. "On the shelf."

Sean runs the washcloth under warm water and brings it to Brandon, who takes it from him to clean himself up, then hands it back.

"Just throw it in the sink," Brandon says.

Sean does that, turns off the light in the bathroom, and gets back in bed with Brandon. They're both still mostly dressed, and Sean likes looking at Brandon like this, messy with what they just did, as much as he liked looking at him before when he was so put together.

"We made a mess out of your dress," Sean says.

"I'm sure dry cleaners have seen worse on prom dresses." Brandon turns his head toward Sean. "And we're just going to make a mess again next time I wear it, so it doesn't matter if it stains."

Sean likes the promise of next time as much as he likes looking at Brandon in the dress this time. He puts one arm over Brandon and runs a hand up and down Brandon's arm.

Brandon smiles at him and runs his fingers through Sean's hair. It feels good, the touching and being touched.

"Next time, huh?" Sean asks.

"Well," Brandon says, "prom is the end of the year, so you might have to wait a while for it to come around again."

That's even better than just the vague promise of there being a next time.

"So I'll just plan to come over for prom between the end of next season and next year's playoffs." Sean knows he's smiling kind of like a goofball, but it's not like he can do anything else.

"Not here." Brandon keeps playing with Sean's hair. "I think I found a place for next year."

"Oh yeah?" Sean's heard a little bit about that, both from what Brandon's told him about looking for a new place to live and from what he's overheard Brandon asking the guys about real estate.

"Mmhmm. It's a house. Probably smarter if I have someone else sharing the rent."

That's probably true given what Sean knows about Calgary's real estate market. It's going to make what they're doing harder, maybe. It might be better with a stranger who doesn't know or care about them. Or maybe it would be better with one of the guys who will know how important it is not to talk about what they might figure out.

"Are you going to ask one of the guys to move in with you?"

Brandon tugs at Sean's hair, not hard enough to hurt. "I'm trying to ask you." He runs his fingers gently through Sean's hair. "Since we're going steady and all."

Sean's first thought is that that's going to make doing this so much easier. His second thought is that they're going to get to do this a lot more. His third thought is that maybe Brandon will cook for them all the time. Those thoughts probably take too long because Brandon pulls his hair again, a little sharper this time.

"I mean, we are going steady," Sean says with a grin he can't even begin to contain. He rolls toward Brandon and kisses him, and it's good and a little silly with both of them grinning and still in their prom clothes.

"Just don't expect me to wear a frilly apron every day," Brandon says.

Sean considers that for a second, and his disinterest must show on his face because Brandon asks, "Not into the 50s housewife?"

"Guess not," Sean says with a shrug.

"Huh." Brandon goes back to running his hand through Sean's hair. "Well, we'll have plenty of chances to figure out what else you might be into."

*

Moving into the new house involves some compromise about furniture and household items. Brandon's bed becomes their bed. Sean buys furniture for the other bedroom so they have something to show if the team ever asks them to do a house tour. They set up Brandon's TV with Sean's Xbox. They buy a new couch together. Brandon brings all of his dishes and cookware. Sean buys a better toaster than the one Brandon had. Brandon laughs when Sean puts a picture of his dog on the nightstand on his side of the bed, but then he kisses Sean and runs a gentle finger across the top of the frame. The pictures of their families go on the mantelpiece in the living room and the walls in the entryway.

Sean's alone in the living room, lying on the couch and playing around on his phone, when Brandon texts him, _Come out to the garage._

Sean hasn't seen Brandon in a while - just because they're living together now doesn't mean they're with each other all the time - so he figures maybe Brandon went grocery shopping and is going to make him carry in bags or something.

That is not what's happening. Sean takes one step into the garage and then stops to stare. Brandon's in the cheerleading uniform Sean bought for him, the Flames one. He's wearing bright red lipstick and glittery gold stuff on his eyes. There are white sneakers on his feet, one of them on the ground, the other kicked up against the car he's leaning on. Sean's car.

Sean underestimated how hot it would be to see Brandon dressed up for him in their house.

Brandon tosses him something Sean doesn't recognize as lube until he catches it.

"The really slutty cheerleaders," Brandon says, "let their dates finger them in the back seats of their cars."

Sean manages a disbelieving laugh before he takes the few steps from the door to Brandon. He presses Brandon into the car as he kisses him, licking deep into Brandon's mouth while Brandon loops his arms around Sean's neck.

"Fuck," Sean says. "You're so fucking hot." He hooks one hand under Brandon's ass, hitching Brandon a little tighter against him.

Brandon's bright smile, nothing there but pure happiness, does just as much to make Sean enjoy this as the outfit does. He rubs up against Sean, enough that it feels really good where Sean's starting to get hard. Then he pushes Sean back and reaches behind himself to open the car door.

"Come on, baby," Brandon says. "Don't you want to get me in the back seat of your car?"

Sean's fingers flex around the lube he's still holding in one hand. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, come on. Prettiest cheerleader in school, of course I want to get you in the back seat of my car."

Brandon flashes him a grin as he gets into the car, and Sean can barely believe how lucky he is.

"Fuck, you're the best."

"I know," Brandon says. He holds out a hand to Sean. "Come on already."

Sean gives another disbelieving laugh and gets into the car.


End file.
